


Lay It On Me

by Layneee



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Actor Clarke Griffin, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bar Owner Bellamy Blake, Bartender Bellamy Blake, Blackmail, Chef John Murphy, Clarke whump, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Running away from your problems, Savior Kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-02-10 17:22:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18664945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Layneee/pseuds/Layneee
Summary: Bellamy Blake owns a bar and is perfectly content with his life of women and booze. His life is pretty quiet (not that he’s complaining) until one day a woman with fiery red hair stumbles into his bar in the middle of the day. But not just any woman, Clarke Fucking Griffin the star of his favorite guilty pleasure; a soap opera called Diagnosis Desire. What Bellamy doesn’t know is that Clarke is harboring a secret. Something that she has been carrying around for nearly a decade, and is big enough to destroy everything she’s worked for.Or the one where Clarke is the soap opera star, but they’re the ones living in one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Season Premiere Day! (No spoilers!)
> 
> So I've started a new story, and wanted to give everyone a little preview! 
> 
> Special thanks to [buckthegrump](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckthegrump/pseuds/buckthegrump) for kicking my ass into gear when I needed it! :) And you should go read her shit. It's not really shit, I promise ;)

_Let me in_ _  
_ _Everything starts at your skin, so new_ _  
_ _Your love's always finding me out_ _  
_ _Who am I kidding?_ _  
_ _If all my defenses come down, oh baby_ _  
_ _Will you lay it all on me now?_ _  
_ Lay it all on me now

__[Lay It On Me - Vance Joy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXXD1Qxpisw) _ _

From the outside, Walden Station is your run of the mill dive. It has a brick exterior and frosted windows. The front door sticks and you need to give it a good kick before it opens. But once inside, it’s far from run of the mill. The bar is made of thick, sturdy mahogany, and decorated in swirls and vines. There is a jukebox in the corner, next to a small stage where local artists perform every Sunday. The liquor selection is top-notch, with half a dozen craft cocktails on the menu. Not to mention the food, that's is prepared with all the love of a five-star restaurant with a one-star price.

It has a loyal batch of regulars whose names are literally carved into their favorite seats, and they treated Walden Station like a second home. It has seen proposals and heartbreak, meet-cutes and one-night-stands.

Most of which was had by Walden Station’s handsome owner, Bellamy Blake.

Many of his friends liked to make fun of his habit of picking up women at his own bar but Bellamy just laughed and called them jealous. His sister Octavia was the worst, though, and liked to remind him that he would never find _the one_ that way.

Bellamy didn’t mind. He wasn’t looking for _the one_. He was too busy running a successful business. And in his spare time, he indulged in his guilty pleasure.

Nobody knew about it. He made sure of that. If anyone _did_ find out, he would literally never hear the end of it.

Because Bellamy loved soap operas. Well, one in particular.

Diagnosis Desire. The best medical soap on basic cable. The thrilling tale of Arkadia Medical Hospital and Dr. Juliet Hume. The fictional love of Bellamy’s life.

And if he picked up blondes more often than not then that’s just a coincidence.

Normally he watched new episodes at the bar while he did inventory. Because nobody else was around, and he could indulge in a beer while he watched the drama unfold.

Sometimes, unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. Some days Murphy, his chef, had to do inventory as well. Bellamy always hated those days.

And today was one of those days.

Bellamy arrived first and went right to the jukebox. If he didn’t, Murphy would put on something terrible, and Bellamy wouldn’t survive another day of Nickleback. Instead, he put on Iron & Wine and was already singing along to “[ Resurrection Fern ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7TX5ofXR2T8)” when Murphy kicked the front door open.

He rolled his eyes. “You and your sad-boy music, Blake.”

Bellamy just ignored him. Sometimes that was what was best when it came to Murphy.

Murphy drifted back to the kitchen, where he would spend the day testing out different recipes and making an order for the upcoming week, and Bellamy stayed behind the bar.

The two worked on their tasks with only the music between them.

Bellamy looked at the clock over the bar and sighed. He was missing his show.

There was a shift in the air, and Bellamy looked out the glass to see fat drops of water start to fall just before a flash of lightning lit up the room.

Then three things happened at once; the power cut off, a loud clap of thunder reverberated through his chest, and the door was thrown open.

Bellamy’s eyes were on the woman who stepped into his bar, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Murphy wander out of the kitchen. There was another flash and Bellamy got a good look at her face.

He couldn’t believe his eyes.

She looked different. His normally blonde hair was dyed a shocking red, and she was hiding under an oversized black hoodie, but it was her.

Clarke fucking Griffin was standing in his bar.

Holy shit.

* * *

yO _u_ **_Don_ ** _’T_ deS **e** rVE _t_ **O** L _i_ **_V_ ** **E**

Clarke looked down at the serial killer style letter in her hands. They were shaking so much she almost couldn’t make out the message.

Except she could, because this wasn’t the first threat she’d received.

What was worst were the gifts that accompanied the message: a glass bird figurine that had been sitting on her bedside table when she left home a week ago, and a framed picture of her, Kane, and Echo that normally sat on his desk.

He found out where she lived. He knew where Kane lived. All of a sudden nothing felt safe. If he had been inside her home, then what else did he know? Did he know where she was right now?

She needed to get away. Somewhere he couldn’t find her.

So she fled without packing a bag or leaving a note. The only thing she had the sense to grab was a bundle of cash. There was no way she was going to leave a credit trail.

The less he had to track her with the better.

She hopped in a cab and told him to just drive, as far as he was willing to go. The man gave her an odd look but shrugged and drove onto the freeway. Forty-five minutes later she was a town over and leaving the cabbie with an extra large tip. She scanned the street and saw a drugstore.

Perfect.

She pulled Kane’s sweatshirt tight around her waist and ran there. She kept her head down as she made the way to the hair dyes. Clarke knew she wasn’t A-list or anything, but she still couldn’t risk being recognized. She grabbed a box at random and paid for it quickly before hiding herself away in the store bathroom.

The color was called Power Red. It could have been worst.

Another forty-five minutes, and a handful of annoying knocks later, Clarke left the bathroom feeling sufficiently incognito. The clerk glared as she left the store, but she ignored him. Once outside, she just started walking. She didn’t pay attention to the street signs, or the businesses around her. She was looking to get lost, after all.

Clarke did notice when the sky darkened to an alarming degree. She looked up and didn’t like the sight of the dark clouds.

In the next moment, she felt the first drop. And then the skies opened up.

Clarke pulled the hood over her head and reached for the first door she saw. It stuck, so Clarke gave it a swift kick, and it flew open.

It was a bar.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she saw the other two men in the room.

* * *

Bellamy wanted to pinch himself.

Then Murphy had to open his goddamn mouth. “Hell of an entrance,” he said while lazily clapping. “But we don’t open until five.”

Clarke Griffin(!) deflated. “Oh. Sorry,” she said. “I was hoping to just wait out the rain.”

Bellamy watched as Murphy opened his mouth again, no doubt about to politely tell her to leave, and Bellamy couldn’t have that.

“That’s fine,” he told her. He ignored the odd look Murphy sent him and rushed around the bar to pull out a chair. “Have a seat. Do you want a coffee?”

Clarke sent him a smile, tired but just as beautiful as on the show, and walked into the room after closing the front door.

Bellamy ran _back_ behind the bar and pulled down a mug. The coffee was still thankfully warm so he poured some into her cup. “There you go.”

“Thank you…” Clarke trailed off, clearly searching for something.

“Bellamy,” he offered.

“Thank you, Bellamy.” Clarke smiled at him again as she lifted the mug to her lips.

Oh, Bellamy was in trouble.

Then Murphy was beside him. “I need to talk to you, Blake.”

A surprisingly strong hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. “Dude, what the hell?” Bellamy asked.

“Right back atcha, buddy,” Murphy replied. “You’re acting like some kind of blubbering idiot. I’d expect that from Jasper, but not you.”

Bellamy wanted to explain himself but that would mean exposing himself too. He realized there was no way around it, unfortunately. He sighed. “You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, Murphy.”

“Cross my heart,” Murphy said unenthusiastically.

“I swear I will fire you if you do,” Bellamy warned.

Again, Murphy seemed unimpressed. “Nice try. You would be lost without me. But sure, you threaten me all you want.”

“I recognize her. That’s Clarke Griffin. She’s in a show I watch,” Bellamy explained. Murphy rolled his hands in the universal gesture for ‘keep talking, idiot’ and Bellamy sighed. “She’s in Diagnosis Desire.”

That got Murphy’s attention. His eyebrows lifted and his mouth tilted into a smirk. “Wait. Let me get this straight. Bellamy ‘only have one night stands ladies man bad boy’ Blake watches soap operas?”

“I told you I would fire you, Murphy, don’t forget it,” Bellamy threatened again, but he knew it was mostly an empty one.

Murphy leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. He was still smirking. “So who is she? Some tv crush?” Bellamy didn’t say anything, which was answer enough for Murphy. “This is hilarious.”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Bellamy snapped. “Just… be cool.” He turned to head back to the bar. Murphy mumbled something behind him, but Bellamy didn’t care enough to listen. Back in the bar, Clarke was still sitting at his bar. She was looking at a piece of paper, but when she heard Bellamy she stuffed it into her pocket.

The lights turned back on and he took her in in the light. It was obvious that she was trying to hide; why or from who was beyond him. He realized he couldn’t let himself fanboy too much, or at all unless he wanted to scare her off.

Because, as Octavia always said, he was a protector by nature, and it looked like she really needed some right about now. As he got closer he realized her mug was nearly empty, so he went about filling it up for her. “So, what’s your name?” He asked.

“Cl…” Clarke hesitated slightly, then coughed, before continuing. “Claire.”

Bellamy made sure his smile was reassuring when he held out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Claire. We’re just doing some inventory today, so feel free to hang out until the rain clears.”

“You really are a lifesaver, Bellamy.” Clarke took another sip of coffee and seemed to relax in her chair.

Bellamy was glad. He could practically feel Murphy roll his eyes.

* * *

Clarke couldn’t believe her luck.

Of all the places she could have hidden out, she ended up in some cozy bar with a good looking barkeep. And he seemed like a decent guy too. Most people, including the intense guy from the kitchen, would have kicked her out, but not Bellamy. She just hoped he let her stick around until she came up with some kind of plan.

She obviously couldn’t stay in this bar forever. Eventually, she would need to get a motel or something. Only then would she let herself think about her crazy and violent stalker.

Bellamy mostly left her to her own devices while he went about his work. The jukebox was playing some moody and relaxing. It wasn’t something she had heard before, but she liked it. Bellamy kept singing under his breath and it was very endearing.

Clarke had to shake her head.

There was literally no good that could come from getting attached. She was going to have to hit the road sooner rather than later.

It continued to rain cats and dogs all afternoon. At some point, the kitchen guy snuck out and changed the music to something loud and dance-y. The change was so sudden it made Bellamy jump and drop the lemons in his hand. Clarke found herself giggling, even as he yelled, “Goddammit, Murphy! Fuck you!”

Around four the door opened and a pretty young woman with dirty blonde hair entered the bar. She had a couple of braids keeping the hair off of her face, and she was dripping water onto the floor. “It’s fucking wet out there,” she said as she crossed the bar and disappeared into a door with a ‘Staff Only!’ sign. She re-appeared a minute later without her bag and jacket. She was tying a black apron around her waist when her eyes landed on Clarke. “Well, hello.”

“Harper, this is Claire,” Bellamy introduced her. “She got stuck in the rain, and is hanging around until it dries up out there.”

Harper turned and shared a look with Murphy that Clarke couldn’t read. She watched as Murphy shrugged, which Harper seemed to take as some kind of answer. She seemed to drop the subject and went about putting chairs down and wiping tables. The music changed to something particularly obnoxious, and Harper practically ran to the jukebox to change it.

“Thank you!” Bellamy shouted from the bar.

“Delete that shit, Bellamy,” Harper shouted back. “We literally all hate it.”

“I don’t!” Murphy called from the kitchen.

“Shut up, Murphy!” Both Harper and Bellamy yelled.

Clarke just sipped her coffee as she watched the coworker bicker.

At five Harper turned on the neon ‘OPEN’ sign, and not five minutes later a couple of guys wandered in. One was tall and lanky with curly black hair and the other was an Asian guy with one of those high fade haircuts. They were laughing as they ambled to the bar, arguing about an episode of LOST.

Bellamy heard them and rolled his eyes. “Guys, that show ended ten years ago. You cannot still be upset about it.”

“True fans are always upset!” the Asian guy explained with a laugh as he plopped himself into the seat beside Clarke. He turned to her and held out a hand. “Monty Green. And you’re new.” His friend sat down on her other side. “And that’s Jasper Jordan.”

“Pleased, I’m sure,” Jasper said with a horrible exaggerated accent.

Before Clarke could speak, Bellamy slammed down two pints in front of the other men. “Leave her alone, you vultures.”

Jasper scoffed. “That’s hilarious, coming from you,” he said.

“Yeah, the guy who swoops in and picks up every girl in here,” Monty added.

“Like a vulture!” Jasper yelled as if there needed to be any clarification.

Again, Clarke couldn’t help but giggle. Which was surprising considering the dire circumstances she was still in.

Monty and Jasper got back to their argument, only they manage to talk around Clarke. She didn’t quite know how to extract herself from the situation. A hand touched her arm and she turned to see Harper behind her. Harper gently pulled her away from the bar and towards a small booth across the room.

“I thought I recognized that damsel in distress look,” Harper said with a smile. “Here,” she said as she set down a drink. Clarke hadn’t even noticed her carrying a tray. “I’ll put it on the bosses tab.”

Harper winked. She left Clarke to her own devices and walked back to the bar. Monty grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into his lap. Harper laughed and smack him on the chest before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

It made Clarke smile. Despite the fact that Clarke was on the run she could appreciate the feel of _family_ that filled the bar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> I figured out how many chapters this story should be! And so I decided you deserve a new chapter in celebration! 
> 
> [buckthegrump](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckthegrump/pseuds/buckthegrump) helped.

Clarke spent the whole evening in that little booth. Harper brought her a couple more drinks, and at some point, Murphy sent her a basket of loaded french fries that were probably the best thing she had ever put in her mouth. Murphy must have heard the noise she made after the first bite because he sent her a saucy wink from the kitchen window.

It was nearing closing time, and aside from Bellamy, Murphy, and Harper, she and Monty were the only ones left in the bar.

The evening had been fun, filled with good booze and a few laughs, but Clarke’s situation was starting to get dire again.

As if sensing her turmoil, Murphy appeared at her booth. “So you need a cab or something? You got a place to stay tonight?”

Clarke froze up. “If you could point me in the direction of the nearest motel, that would be great.”

“The nearest motel?” Murphy asked with a raised brow. “That’s only a couple blocks from here. But it’s a shithole. Had bedbugs, last I heard.”

Clarke noticed Bellamy approach the table. Murphy must have sensed him because he turned to give him a shit eating grin. “But I’m pretty sure Bellamy has a spare room. Dontcha, pal?”

Bellamy nearly tripped over his own feet at his friend’s words. “No! I mean, yeah I do. But I would hate to impose.”

“Aw, come on, Blake,” Murphy said. “Not the first time you’ve offered a lady a place to sleep if you know what I mean.”

Clarke felt her face heat up, but Bellamy seemed to be even more embarrassed by the way he was shifting from foot to foot and pointedly _not_ looking at her.

“Shut up, Murphy,” Bellamy groaned under his breath. Then he looked at Clarke. “I know that’s not what this is, but if you need someplace I go I _do_ have a spare room.”

Clarke took a moment to size him up. He was taller than her, and there was a good amount of muscle under his t-shirt. It would be easy for him to overpower her. But he seemed trustworthy. True, her intuition had led her astray in the past, but she wasn’t in the position to turn down help. She couldn’t afford to be recognized.

“That would actually be really helpful,” Clarke eventually said. “Thank you, Bellamy.”

Bellamy seemed surprised, but he covered it up quickly. “Yeah, of course. I’m ready to go if you are.”

Clarke nodded and stood. She had stopped drinking hours earlier, so at least she didn’t stumble as she walked out of the bar with the small group. Monty and Harper climbed into a smart car that was parked in front, and Murphy climbed onto a motorcycle that was obnoxiously left on the sidewalk. Bellamy touched her arm gently, then motioned down the street. “I’m just a few blocks this way if you don’t mind a walk.”

Clarke shook her head. The night air felt great, actually. They walked in amicable silence, down the street before turning up into a small neighborhood. Bellamy eventually stopped in front of a small duplex. Bellamy walked onto the small porch and towards the door to the left.

He opened the door and allowed Clarke to walk in first. She found herself in the living room. It was cozy but sparingly decorated. There was a tv sitting in the corner with a bookshelf beside it. Bellamy walked through the room and towards the back of the house. “My room is upstairs, but I have a spare room back here. Let me make sure it’s set up for you.”

Clarke nodded, but he was already gone. With nothing better to do, she wandered towards the bookshelf. She’s always believed you could tell a lot about a person from what they read. Bellamy’s shelf was filled with mostly historical biographies and even a few textbooks. He did have all the classics though, and they looked well used.

Then she spotted his DVD shelf. Right there, between Death at a Funeral and Die Hard, was every season of Diagnosis Desire.

“Fuck,” Clarke swore. She turned her head, but Bellamy was still in the other room.

He knew. He _knew_ who she was. And if he knew who she was, then he was in danger. She refused to let her baggage hurt anyone else. Her flight or flight response kicked in and she turned on her heel and ran. She didn’t even close the front door.

She didn’t know anything in this town, so it would make sense that she would run back to the bar. Murphy said the motel was close. She ran further down the street until she spotted The Ring Motel in the distance. The vacancy sign was on but flickering. The rain started up again and she was soaked by the time she made it to the office. She wiped her face with her sleeve and pushed open the door.

A guy was sitting behind the desk with his feet up on the counter. Clarke really didn’t like the way he was looking at her, but she couldn’t just break into a room and hope it was empty. She approached the desk carefully and cringed when his eyes looked her up and down.

“How can I help you, gorgeous?” He asked.

“I need a room please.” Charlie subconsciously wrapped her arms around her middle, but all that did was draw his attention to her chest.

He shrugged. “Sorry. We’re full up.”

“But your sign out front…” Clarke trailed off.

“Yeah, sorry. No vacancy.” He stood and stripped off his jacket. Clarke caught sight of the name tag pinned to his t-shirt. Dax. “But I do have a cot in the back room. I promise I’ll keep to my side.”

Clarke took a step away from the counter. Then another when it looked like he was going to follow her. “No, thank you. I’ll try someplace else.”

“Your loss, sweetheart,” Dax said.

Clarke didn’t grace him with another response before rushing out of there. She ran a few more blocks back in the direction of the bar before hiding out in a covered doorway.

“Fuck,” Clarke said again. She didn’t know what she would do. It was nearing three in the morning now, and there was no way she was going to get a cab or find another motel. She looked down at her clothes and knew they wouldn’t be warm enough to survive a night outside.

Maybe she could find a bus station or train stop to hide out in. At least until the sun came up and she could get out of town.

Clarke pulled out her cash. She groaned. It wasn’t nearly enough for her to start a new life somewhere safe.

For the first time since she ran out of her home, she felt truly fucked.

The sound of heavy footprints hitting wet pavement broke her out of her thoughts. Clarke pulled her hood down and tried to disappear into the building behind her.

“Clar… uh, Claire!”

Bellamy. At least she knew for sure now that he knew who she was.

She had a couple of options at this point. She could stay hidden and hope he loses interest, or she could allow him to help her and worry constantly that she was putting him in harm's way.

The choice was taken out of her hands when Bellamy stepped in front of her alcove and turned, catching sight of her.

“Claire,” he said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I know you know,” she said. “You know who I am.”

Bellamy looked for a moment like he was going to deny it, but Clarke shut him up with a hard shake of her head. “Don’t deny it.”

Bellamy’s shoulders slumped. “You’re right. I recognized you the second I saw you.”

“I figured,” Clarke said softly. She started to shiver from the rain and chill.

“Come on,” Bellamy said. “Let’s get you back to my place. You can warm up there.”

Clarke just shook her head. “I can’t. It’s not…” Clarke hesitated before saying safe. He couldn’t know he was in danger. “I can’t stay if you know who I am.”

“I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, Clarke,” Bellamy said softly. “But I promise I can keep you safe. And if you need to pretend to be Claire, I can do that.”

Clarke could feel tears sting her eyes. She realized at that moment that Bellamy was the only person she had in the world, especially since she abandoned Kane and Echo without a word. Bellamy didn’t say another word before pulling her into his arms awkwardly. Clarke stiffened for a beat, before relaxing and pressing her face into his chest.

He smelled like old cedar and the smokiness of scotch. Clarke felt small in his arms but protected.

“Come on, Claire,” he said without letting her out of his hold. “Let’s get you warmed up.”

“Clarke,” she said as she pulled away. “You can call me Clarke.”

* * *

Bellamy was hovering.

He knew he was. But he couldn’t help himself. When he got Clarke back to his house he ushered her into the downstairs bathroom. He asked her to wait and ran around grabbing clean towels and a spare set of his own pajamas. Clarke took it all with a smile and closed the door.

The shower turned on and Bellamy escaped to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Caffeine free, obviously, because he needed to calm the fuck down.

When Clarke burst into his bar it was obvious she was trying to hide. He didn’t give it much thought. In the back of his mind he figured it wasn’t that big of a deal; a scandal that would blow over or something like that.

But seeing just how _freaked out_ she had been, and how determined she was to run where nobody recognized her? She had to be wrapped up in something a lot bigger than he originally thought.

And then he went and promised he could take care of her. What if he couldn’t? What if _he did_ put her in more danger?

Without thinking of the consequences, Bellamy pulled out his phone and called his sister.

“ _What the fuck, Bell? Do you realize what time it is?_ ” His sister groaned as soon as she answered the phone.

Bellamy looked at the clock on the stove and winced. It was past two at this point. “I’m sorry, O. I just needed to talk,” he said.

A masculine voice mumbled something on the other end of the line and Bellamy was half tempted to grab a kitchen knife and stab it in his ears. “ _Go back to sleep. I’ll be quick,_ ” Octavia whispered, but Bellamy still heard it. There was a ruffle of fabric, and the sound of soft footfalls, then a door clicking shut.

“You know I hate knowing about your one-night stands, O,” Bellamy said with all the ire of a pissed off sibling.

“ _Screw you. That’s what you get for calling me at ass o’clock,_ ” Octavia snapped. “ _And Lincoln has been a twelve-night stand, thank you very much. But that’s not why you called. Tell me what’s going on._ ”

Classic Octavia. There is no beating around the bush with her. “I…” Bellamy felt the words stick in his throat. How did he tell her anything without giving everything away? “A redhead walked into the bar, and I know who she is, but I’m not supposed to and she knows that I know, and she doesn’t like that I know but she doesn’t know that Murphy knows, because I told Murphy before I knew that I wasn’t supposed to know and now she’s in my shower. And she may or may not be on the run.”

There was silence. He pulled the phone away from his ear and checked that the call hadn’t dropped.

It hadn’t.

“ _Are you stoned? Did you and Murphy break into the gin?_ ” Octavia asked. Bellamy could hear the eye roll from miles away.

“No!” Bellamy said. “I can’t tell you what’s going on, but I’m freaking out about it.”

“ _Clearly._ ”

“O. How do I know I can keep her safe?” Bellamy asked quietly.

Octavia sighed. “ _Because you always kept me safe, and I was always getting in trouble._ ” She had a point there. “ _As much as it pains me to compliment you, you are a good man, big brother. And if this redhead needs to be protected, then you are probably the best one to do it._ ”

Bellamy felt a weight lift off his shoulders. “Thanks, O. That’s kinda exactly what I needed to hear.”

“ _Glad I could be of service,_ ” Octavia said. “ _Now I am going to get back to the naked man in my bed. Goodnight, Bell!_ ”

Bellamy fake-gagged, but his sister had already hung up and didn’t hear him. He made a mental note to give her shit about that next time they talked.

Bellamy tossed his phone on the counter and grabbed the kettle from the stove. The water wasn’t boiling anymore, but it was still hot enough. He poured the water into the mug Octavia got him for his last birthday. It was childish, and a little embarrassing, but somehow it had become his favorite. He grabbed a second, more normal mug for Clarke and got to making her a cup of tea. She had a rough night, and would need something to relax, right? That wasn’t weird.

He was just about to dump the mug out when the bathroom door opened and Clarke stepped out.

She had her hair wrapped up in a towel on top of her head, but he could see little pink strands where they fell out. She was also looking totally comfortable in his pj’s, and it was enough to get him a little flustered. “Is that for me?” Clarke asked as she reached for his mug where he left it on the counter. She turned it around to see what it said, and Bellamy watched as an amused looked spread across her face. “I don’t fart. I whisper in my panties,” Clarke read. “Interesting choice.”

Bellamy rubbed at the back of his neck in embarrassment. “It was a gift from my sister,” he explained.

Clarke chuckled, and it was the most beautiful sound Bellamy had ever heard. Then he remembered the whole trauma-running-for-her-life thing and he forced himself not to think about that. “I like it.” She took a sip, and hmm’d happily. “This is really good.”

“Thanks,” Bellamy said before clearing his throat. “Um, it’s getting late. Let me show you to your room.”

Clarke followed behind him, and he could hear the subtle swish-swish of her borrowed pants on the hardwood floors. The back bedroom was set up as a guest room, generally as a place for Octavia to crash when she visited. It was decorated in forest greens and light wood, her favorite colors. “I know it’s not much, but it should be alright.”

Bellamy felt a hand on his wrist and looked down at Clarke. “It’s perfect, Bellamy. Thank you.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Bellamy said as he took a couple of steps back. “My room’s upstairs if you need anything.”

Before he could get away, Clarke stepped into his space and wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his throat.

Her hair towel had disappeared at some point, and Bellamy could smell his shampoo in her hair. Instinctually he circled his arms around her and squeezed. She was about the same size as his sister but felt so much smaller somehow.

“You don’t know how much this means to me, Bellamy,” Clarke said. Her voice was muffled against his chest. “I’m lucky I ran into your bar.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Bellamy replied. “You’re safe here.”

Clarke pulled away and smiled bashfully. “I know.” She stepped away but paused in the doorway. “Goodnight, Bellamy.”

She closed the door and Bellamy let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

Bellamy watched the door for a moment, half sure it would disappear entirely and he would find this was all some crazy dream. When the door remained, he shook his head and realized how ridiculous he was being.

He spun around and made his way to his room hoping he would be able to sleep with _the_ Clarke Griffin in his house.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So [buckthegrump](https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckthegrump/pseuds/buckthegrump) has informed me that this fic is a semi-finalist for a BFWA as an underrated fic... which is AMAZING! So in honor of that here is a new chapter!

_ “I don’t know if I want to do this.” _

_ “This is how the world works. You want to get ahead, don’t you?” _

_ “I just didn’t think it would be like this…” _

_ Space shifted. Darkness. A weight on top of her. _

_ “They’re going to love you.” _

_ Pain. It felt all wrong.  _

_ “That’s it.”  _

_ Shame. Stupid girl. _

_ “Let’s go again.” _

Clarke woke with a start. That particular dream always had this effect on her, but it felt somehow worse today. She looked around the strange room, disoriented. 

“Where the fuck?” Clarke groaned. She was in a surprisingly comfortable bed, surrounded by soft green bedding. She turned her head. An alarm clock on the bedside table told her it was almost ten in the morning. 

A soft sound drifted in from the next room. It sounded like… singing? There was a guitar and a low voice.

Silently she rolled out of the bed and nearly tripped over the hem of her pants. She looked down. Those weren’t hers. She crossed the room and opened the door. 

The smell of coffee and pancakes smacked her in the face and with it the memories from the night before came rushing back. 

The letter, the token from her house, Kane’s photo. Running. The bar. 

Bellamy.

The later was in the kitchen, singing along to his music. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. 

“ _ It's better to feel pain than nothing at all. The opposite of love's indifference _ ,” Bellamy sang as he pulled a plate down from the cupboard. He turned, spotted Clarke, and promptly dropped it on the ground. “Oh fuck. Shit, sorry.” 

They both bent down to pick up the shards. Thankfully it broke into a couple of big pieces, so it was a quick job. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Clarke said. She moved to help him with breakfast, but he waved her off. She took the hint and sat in one of the stools instead. 

“Not your fault,” Bellamy told her. “I forgot there was someone else in the house. Good thing I always cook for an army.”

Clarke looked at the mounds of food and had to agree. He pulled down a couple more plates and started to dish them up. He placed one in front of Clarke and set the other in front of the chair beside her. Then he pulled out the coffee pot and raised his brow in question. Clarke nodded, so he poured her a mug. 

There was already a sugar shaker and a carton of half-n-half on the counter, so she doctored her coffee the way she liked it and took a sip. It was delicious, so she took a larger swallow. 

Bellamy had taken his seat beside her and was already walkway through his short stack of pancakes. 

Clarke followed his lead and took a bit of her food. It was amazing. “This is really good,” Clarke complimented him. “Why aren’t you the chef?”

Bellamy ducked his head, almost bashful. “Because then Murphy would have to work the bar and we don’t want that. Trust me,” Bellamy joked. “I had him help me once during a Notre Dame game and he punched a dad sitting at the bar.”

“A dad?” Clarke asked. 

“Yeah, he was there with his kid,” Bellamy explained. “He did deserve it. He was trying to get his kid to flirt with this girl when clearly neither of them wanted it to happen. He called his kid a pussy and Murphy just snapped. The guy may seem scrawny, but he packs a punch, I’ll tell you that.” 

Clarke found herself laughing. “Somehow that actually doesn’t surprise me.”

The pair fell into silence as they finished their meal. Clarke eventually collected their empty plates and took them to the sink before Bellamy could complain. She rinsed them and placed them in the dishwasher while he looked on with an unhappy look on his face. 

“You shouldn’t have to do that,” Bellamy said. “You’re a guest.” 

“Bellamy, I’m not just going to sit on my ass here,” Clarke told him. “I’m not some spoiled little actress, you know.” 

She felt her temper start to build and had to take a couple of deep breaths. Bellamy seemed to sense this and walked around the island towards her. “I don’t think that! I promise. You can ask anyone. They call me a mother hen at least twice a week.”

Clarke forced her feathers to un-ruffle. “I know you don’t. I’m sorry. I must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed.” She took another sip of her coffee, grimacing when she realized how cold it had gotten. 

Bellamy grabbed the mug out of her hand and walked around the kitchen to pop it in the microwave. He leaned against the counter while the timer ticked down. “I was going to go for a run, but while I’m gone you’re more than welcome to look around, or do whatever. This house is yours for however long you’re gonna be here.”

“That’s very kind of you, Bellamy,” Clarke said. “I promise I won’t snoop through all your stuff.” 

“I- I didn’t think you would!” Bellamy was quick to explain. 

Clarke watched as he shifted from foot to foot, obviously uncomfortable. “Relax, Bellamy. I really appreciate everything. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Bellamy said. The microwave beeped, making Bellamy jump. He pulled the mug out and handed it back to Clarke. “I’m going to go get changed.” 

Bellamy disappeared to his room and left Clarke to finish her coffee. Just a few moments later he reappeared, dressed distractingly good for exercise. Clarke caught barely a glance before he left the house. 

Left to her own devices, Clarke decided to explore the house a little bit more. She only got a glimpse of it last night before she ran away. She walked towards the bookcase. With her coffee in her left hand, she used her right to trail over the collection of paperback and hardcovers that filled the shelves. 

She plucked a book out at random and took it to an overstuffed armchair near the fireplace. She placed the book in her lap and let it fall open to a random page. She took a sip of coffee and began to read. 

Some time passed. She wasn’t really reading, mostly just flipping pages and catching stray words here and there, and before she knew it the door was opening. She glanced up and watched Bellamy enter the house over the top of her book. 

It was quite a sight. 

His running shorts were sticking to his legs with sweat, and he had lost his shirt somewhere, leaving him tantalizingly exposed. 

He made a beeline for the kitchen, where he pulled a fresh water bottle out of the fridge. The cap was untwisted with a flick of his wrist and then he put the bottle to his mouth. Clarke watched, transfixed, as he downed half of it in one pull. 

Bellamy set his drink down with a big gulp of air and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Only then did he see Clarke. He nodded to the book in her grasp. “How do you like it?” 

“Huh?” Clarke asked dumbly.

“ _ Watership Down _ ,” he clarified. “Have you read it before?”

Clarke looked down at the little bunny on the cover of the book. “Oh, yes. I read it for school once. But it’s been a while.”

Bellamy nodded. “It’s weird, to read it and look up to a rabbit. But I’ve always wanted to be strong like Bigwig.”

“I’ll have to read it again, then,” Clarke said as she flipped the book to the first page. “See what I have to say about that.”

“Alright,” Bellamy said with a smile. “I’m gonna shower before I have to head to the bar. Do you want to come with me tonight? Or stay here?” 

Clarke thought it over. As much as she enjoyed being there the night before, she felt the need to hide away a bit. She thought about Dax at the motel and felt a sliver of fear that he would find her there. “I think I’ll stay here if that’s okay.”

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.” Bellamy backed away and wandered upstairs. A moment later she heard the shower start up. Instead of letting her mind wander to the forbidden images that brought up, she focused her gaze on the book and started to read. 

* * *

Bellamy pushed open the front door to Walden Station and was unsurprised to find Murphy already there. He was unfortunately at the jukebox, no doubt picking something horrible to torture him with. Seconds later a  [ pop-y, 2000’s opening ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=le8vixtpX6Q) was blaring through the bar. 

“Hey, Juliet!” Murphy sang along when the vocals started. “Hey, Juliet!”

Bellamy watched as his friend-slash-new arch-nemesis danced around like some boy-band wannabee. It would be hilarious if it didn’t also infuriate him a little bit. The cook was really getting into it when Bellamy walked up to the jukebox and pulled the plug. 

“Spoilsport!” Murphy said with a grin as he smacked his friend on the back. “It’s a banger, I gotta say.”

“I don’t think you get what that means,” Bellamy grumbled. 

“What? If it slaps, it fuckin’ slaps,” Murphy continued. 

Bellamy didn’t feel like having another conversation about Murphy’s questionable taste in music. He crossed his arms over his chest, one hand still holding the jukebox’s plug, and stared Murphy down. Eventually, the shorter guy held up his hands in surrender and back away. 

“Fine. Sheesh,” he complained. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” 

Only when Murphy was back in the kitchen did Bellamy plug the machine back in and start something a little more bar appropriate. Murphy didn’t agree with him if the groan from the kitchen was any indication. Bellamy ignored him. He ignored him even harder when he heard the chef start to sing that song under his breath. 

Bellamy moved back behind the bar and got to work. He didn’t have to do any inventory, thankfully, but it was a Sunday, which meant they were in for a busy night and he needed to get prepared. 

“So where is Dr. Hume tonight?” Murphy said loudly from the kitchen an hour or so into their work. 

Bellamy put down the knife he was holding with a little too much force. “You can’t call her that in public, man,” Bellamy called back. “And how did you know her character’s name? I’m pretty sure I didn’t tell you.”

“I know how to use Google, Blake. I’m not an idiot,” Murphy replied. 

“Coulda fooled me,” Bellamy whispered. 

Either Murphy didn’t hear him, or he didn’t care to respond. “And why can’t I call her that? It’s just a joke, man.”

“Did you miss her using a fake name last night?” Bellamy walked to the kitchen window and leaned his forearms on the ledge. “I think she’s in trouble. She lookin’ to hide from something and we’re gonna help her. Got it?”

Murphy rolled his eyes but when his face returned to its normal stoicism his eyes were clear and thoughtful. “Of course. If it’s that serious, you know I’m with you on this. You say she needs to hide, and I’ll help you.”

For all John Murphy was an annoying dick, he also had a protective streak a mile wide. And once he decided to fight for someone or something, he wouldn’t give up. 

“Thanks, Murphy,” Bellamy finally said. 

“You know, if you want her to be able to hang out here without worrying about her getting recognized, she could always help me in the back,” Murphy said with a shrug. “I wouldn’t say no to an extra set of hands. If she wanted to, that is.”

Bellamy looked at his friend, a little surprised that the pretty perfect suggestion. “I’ll ask her about it tomorrow.”

Murphy nodded, clearly ending the pow-wow, picked up a large chef’s knife and waved it in Bellamy’s direction. “Now get out of my face. These chickens aren’t going to break themselves down.”

Bellamy laughed as he backed away. “Yes sir,” Bellamy said. He went back to the bar and focused back on his prep. 

Another half-hour later Harper arrived, and a second later Miller and Bryan walked through the door. It wasn’t often that they had this many people on staff, but Sunday definitely called for it. Bryan and Harper began setting up the front, while Miller walked behind the bar. 

“We all set up, boss?” Miller asked as he pushed the sleeves of his henley up to his elbows. 

“Pretty much,” Bellamy said. “Could you just check the kegs in back? And make sure we have plenty of backups in the fridge?”

“You got it,” Miller said as he walked through the ‘Staff Only!’ door. 

“Miller’s moving kegs?” Bryan asked from the other side of the bar. “I’m gonna watch.”

Bellamy snorted and rolled his eyes as the server followed his boyfriend into the back. 

“Well I’m not going back there for at least an hour,” Harper said with a laugh as she pulled out a stool and sat at the bar. 

Bellamy nodded in agreement and pulled a bottle of Coke from the fridge and handed it over to the server. Harper thanked him quietly and took a sip. “How’s Claire? Did she stay with you last night?” She asked as she set the glass down. 

Bellamy scratched at the back of his head. Harper was good at seeming nonchalant, but he could still hear the implication in her words. “She’s- uh- good. She stayed in my guest room last night.” Harper lifted a single brow, barely enough to notice but Bellamy saw. “I swear! It’s not like that.” 

“But you want it to be, don’t you?” Harper probed. 

“It  _ can’t _ be like that,” Bellamy barked. “So drop it.” 

Harper huffed. “Sure,  _ chief _ , whatever you say.” She pushed away from the bar and picked up her soda. “I’m gonna step outside and get some fresh air.”

Bellamy groaned and walked back to the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms grumpily. 

“She ‘chief’d you, didn’t she?” Murphy asked, after offering Bellamy barely a glance.

“Yeah,” Bellamy said. “I deserved it, though. She was pushing about Clarke and I snapped at her.” 

“You know, if you told her what’s got your panties in a twist, she would understand,” Murphy said. “You really think she would broadcast that Clarke was here? If she knew how important our secrecy was?”

“Not my decision to make,” Bellamy said. He looked at his watch. “I’m gonna open up.”

He walked back to the bar, leaving Murphy alone in the kitchen. Harper was just walking in from the front door, while Bryan and Miller came in through the back door. The men looked a little more ruffled, but Bellamy couldn’t make himself be upset with them. Instead, he walked up to Harper. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

Harper stared at him for a moment, before a small smile spread across her face. “You know we can’t stay mad at you, boss.” 

He pulled his employee into a quick hug. Then the door opened and a group of frat boys walked in. Harper saw them and groaned. 

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Bellamy said before slipping behind the bar. 

Bellamy and Miller shared a look, both mentally preparing them for a busy night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, guys! ALL the love!! <3


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke tried to read, she really did, but she couldn’t seem to focus. It wasn’t Bellamy anymore. No, without him acting as a distraction, the book just wasn’t enough to keep the memories away. 

That dream always had a way of unsettling her. Normally, she would be able to throw herself into work. The thing about soaps was they required long, nonstop days. And if she still couldn’t focus, she would normally talk to Wells. Her co-star was like a rock. Steady. Unflappable. He knew about her past, even if it was just the most palatable half-truth about her past. 

Some days she would wake from a nap in her trailer, and all she could handle was the walk to his before she crumbled onto his couch. 

But she couldn’t risk calling Wells now. If she did, he would immediately ask questions she couldn’t or wouldn’t answer. And he would end up talking to Kane, and her manager would no doubt do everything within his power to track her down. 

If they found her, they would all be in danger. 

No, better to find other coping mechanisms. 

When she first started having the dreams, she drank until she was numb. But then she thought of her mom and felt sick for a whole other reason. 

Since the book wasn’t helping, she put it down gently and walked back to the guest room. Maybe she should have taken Bellamy up on his offer to hang out at the bar. According to the clock, there was still time. The bar only opened a few minutes ago. She looked down at her clothes. She was still wearing Bellamy’s pajamas, which were not bar-appropriate. She had her own clothes from when she ran off, but she would rather not put them back on. 

There was a dresser across the room. It was a long shot, but Clarke figured there might be something for her to wear inside it. She pulled open the first drawer and it was empty. Not to get discouraged, she immediately opened the second one. That one was full. 

Carefully, she started to shift through the stacks. There were a couple of pairs of pants, but they looked like Bellamy’s. Next, she pulled out a few tank tops and shorts. Still not quite what she was hoping for, but it would do in a pinch. Finally, she pulled out a gray t-shirt dress. It had a v-neck and was incredibly soft between her fingers. She held it up to her body and thought it might actually fit her. It would be short, but she could deal with that. 

She slipped out of her pajamas and pulled the dress over her head. It fit her okay, if not a little tight around her chest and on the short side. She checked her reflection in the stand-up mirror in the corner and figured it would be good enough. She left the room before she could second guess herself. 

Her boots were sitting near the front door, and she slipped them on over her socked feet. Lastly, she opened the hall closet and pulled out an army green bomber jacket. It was definitely Bellamy’s, but Clarke didn’t think he would mind. She slipped it on and got a whiff of his aftershave. She had her nose buried in the collar before he registered what she was doing.

Clarke took a moment to collect herself before she walked out of Bellamy’s house. She didn’t have a key, so she just locked the handle before pulling the door closed behind her. That would hopefully be good enough until she and Bellamy got back. 

The air was a little muggy, after the storm the day before, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The walk to the bar only took a few minutes, but Clarke still felt a sense of relief when she approached the front door. There were a few different groups of people on the sidewalk, each enjoying a cigarette. Clarke paid them no mind as she pushed the door open. 

While last night had been busy, it had nothing on the crowd in front of her. Bellamy was behind the bar, but there was another guy there with him. They were rushing back and forth, pouring beers and making drinks. Bellamy was laughing with a middle-aged woman while he shook a cocktail over his shoulder. It was one of those classic ‘mixologist’ moves, but he somehow made it look natural. 

There was a commotion at the other end of the room and she turned to see Harper walking onto the stage. Beside her was a laptop on a stand that seemed to be acting as a karaoke machine. She typed something, then winked at someone sitting in one of the booths. “This one’s for you, Monty!” 

Loud, fifties  [ doo-wop ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HNnNLBteKeo) started playing and Harper bounced up and down to the beat. “ Baby, ooh baby! I love to call you baby. Baby, oh oh baby, I love for you to call me baby, ” she sang. Clarke looked towards where Monty was sitting, and he was grinning at Harper like she hung the moon. Harper wrapped her arms around her chest as she sang the next part of the song. “When you squeeze me real tight, you make wrong things right. And I can't stop loving you and I won't stop calling you Baby, oh baby!”

Clarke stood near the door and watched for another moment before moving towards the bar. It, like the rest of the place, was crowded. Thankfully someone set down a bill and moved out of their chair just as Clarke was approaching. She slipped into the seat and pushed the twenty away from the edge. 

Bellamy was occupied still, so it was the other bartender who approached her. 

“What can I get you?” He asked as he slapped a cocktail napkin in front of her. 

Normally, she would order a whiskey but considering her mental state only half an hour ago she figured that might not be the best idea. “Could I just get soda water with some bitters?” 

The bartender didn’t seem phased. He just gave her a friendly nod and set a drink in front of her a moment later. 

“B-A-B-Y, baby!” Harper sang out the last few words of the song, and the bar erupted in claps. Clarke turned in her seat to join in. Harper laughed and bowed good-naturedly. 

“You getting up there tonight, Blake?” Clarke heard the other bartender ask Bellamy. 

Bellamy seemed sheepish as he mumbled a non-committal maybe. It’s only after the customers closest to them start pressuring him that he threw up his hands. “Fine!” He yelled, but he was smiling shyly. 

Clarke ducked her head, not really wanting to be seen yet, as he walked around the bar and towards the stage. Instead of using the karaoke machine, he picked up a guitar that was leaning against the wall and plugged it into a nearby speaker. 

Around the bar, people start hollering as Bellamy got settled. Harper even scrambled to get him a stool. 

Unlike Harper, he didn’t offer any kind of introduction. Instead, he just started to  [ play ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H7KNUhy6Wq0) . 

He doesn’t just strum chords but fingerpicked a complicated melody. Clarke couldn’t seem to look away, especially when he started to sing. “ Honey hold me close, hold me with both arms. Tell me it's alright, sing me that song I love.  Oh oh oh oh oh oh.”

When he got to the chorus the whole bar was paying attention and everyone, including Clarke, was clapping along to the beat. 

“Gonna hold my breath until you're here ‘cause I can't breathe without you dear,” he sang. His eyes were scanning the crowd, and Clarke felt it the moment he noticed her. She lifted her drink in a quick toast and the corner of his mouth ticked up in a pleased smile. “Gonna hold my breath until you're here ‘cause I can’t breathe without you.”

Clarke was so focused on Bellamy that she didn’t notice when someone slid up beside her. 

“Such a show-off,” Murphy said, making her jump in her seat. 

Clarke laughed and turned to the chef. “A little. At least he’s good.”

“Meh, he’s alright,” Murphy said with a shrug. “So what brought you in? Get bored at the Blake house?”

Clarke couldn’t tell him that she felt haunted by old memories so she just shrugged back. “Something like that.”

Murphy ticked his head to the side. “Come with me,” he said before walking away from the bar. 

For some reason, Clarke felt totally comfortable following him. He walked down a short hallway and through the kitchen door. She could see through a large window into the bar. It was not a view she was used to seeing. 

“So Bellamy and I were talking,” Murphy said while he leaned against one of the far counters. “Would you be interested in working back here with me?” When Clarke didn’t immediately respond, he continued. “He mentioned you were in a tight spot, and I figured why the hell not? It’ll mean less work for me.” 

Before she could respond they were joined in the kitchen by Bellamy. He took one look at Clarke and stopped in his tracks.

* * *

Bellamy finished his song and set the guitar down carefully. He stepped off the stage and speed-walked back to the bar. A few women tried to catch his eye, but for once he didn’t feel like getting fawned over by random barflies. Miller was still clapping lazily behind the bar when Bellamy approached. “Get back to work,” he grumbled at his employee. 

Miller saluted him lazily. He turned to do as he was told, but paused. “Oh, just so you know, Murphy took some girl back to the kitchen. So maybe you should go yell at  _ him _ about the health code for once.” 

“Jesus, you guys! I’m trying to run a business, no a hook-up joint,” Bellamy swore. 

Miller just grinned. “Just wanted you to be informed, boss.”

Bellamy shook his head and walked away from the bar. All he could see through the kitchen window when he passed by the flash of red hair. 

He pushed open the door, a lecture on the tip of his tongue. Then he saw who’s inside and nearly choked on his own spit. 

He only spared Murphy a cursory glance. Most of his attention was focused on the woman with him. 

Clarke Fucking Griffin.

He wasn’t used to seeing her with red hair. But damn, did it suit her. 

She was wearing chunky black boots and a temptingly short gray dress. He was pretty sure it was Octavia’s, which was really causing some conflicting thoughts in his head. He should not find someone this hot when they were wearing his sister’s clothes. Over top of it, she was wearing an oversized jacket. Wait…

“Is that my jacket?” Bellamy asked. And he was almost embarrassed by how breathless he sounded.

Clarke blushed, “Yeah, sorry I took it without asking. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, he doesn’t,” Murphy said with a knowing smirk. Bellamy shot him a death glare. 

“Shut up, Murphy,” Bellamy swore under his breath. “But no, it’s fine, really.”

Bellamy found himself staring at Clarke, but she was staring back so he didn’t really feel that bad about it. 

There was a loud  _ ding _ and the three people in the kitchen turned to see Harper standing in the kitchen window. “Order up,” she said unnecessarily. “Hey, Claire!” She added, waving at the redhead. 

Clarke waved back but was soon jostled forward and practically into Bellamy’s arms when Murphy gently pushed them out of his kitchen. 

Out in the hallway, it was unusually quiet. 

“I really hope you don’t mind I borrowed some stuff,” Clarke said softly. “I didn’t actually bring anything with me when I ran off.”

Bellamy chanced putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I really don’t. It- uh- it looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” Clarke smiled sheepishly as she smoothed down the front of her dress. “So Murphy offered me a job.”

Bellamy shot the kitchen door a glare and hoped his chef could feel it somehow. “I was going to talk to you about it tomorrow. I didn’t want you to feel like you had to hide out at my place, but I thought you might feel a little nervous being out front all the time. Well, Murphy did. It was kind of his idea.”

“Does he…” Clarke looked around them warily. “Does he know who I am?”

Bellamy tried not to grimace. “I told him after you first showed up. I’m sorry. It was before I realized you were hiding who you were. I was kind of freaking out. He won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“It’s okay, Bellamy,” Clarke said. “I believe you. And the others?”

Bellamy shook his head. “They don’t know. And they won’t unless you tell them.”

“I’m lucky I walked into your bar,” Clarke told him honestly. “And if the offer is real, I’d love to take you up on the job.”

“Of course it’s real,” Bellamy said. Then without meaning to, he looked her up and down. (Though secretly he was glad for the chance to cement the image in his memory.) “But we’ll need to get you some clothes first.” 

“Did someone say shopping trip?” Harper cut in as she approached them from the bar then she caught Bellamy’s eye. “Boss, Miller needs you up front.”

Bellamy gave Clarke one final smile before half-jogging back to the bar. 

“Did you catch them in the act?” Miller asked as he poured a drink out of the shaker into a frosted coupe glass. 

“No!” Bellamy said a little too quickly. When Miller side-eyed him he explained. “That’s Claire. She’s gonna be working back with him for a bit.”

Miller turned to face him fully. “Oh, okay. I see how it is.” 

“No, you don’t!” Bellamy said as he pointed a finger at Miller’s face. “You see nothing.”

Miller looked like he wanted to continue to needle information out of him, but at that moment Harper approached the bar with Clarke in tow. 

“You in for a shopping trip, Miller?” Harper asked cheerfully. “Claire is in need of some new duds!”

Bellamy watched as Miller looked from Harper to Clarke to himself then back to Harper before saying, “Fuck yes!” Then he leaned towards Clarke conspiratorially. “They always ask me cause I have much better fashion sense than my boyfriend.” 

“Screw you, babe!” Bryan interjected as he, too, approached the bar. “One of these days you will stop holding the drop-crotch pants against me.”

Everyone laughed, making Bryan frown. Miller lifted himself so he could lean across the bar and give his boyfriend a quick kiss. “Never gonna happen, babe.” 

“Tomorrow work for you?” Harper asked, not wanting the shopping trip to get forgotten. 

“Yup!” Miller said as he dropped back to the floor. “Claire?”

Bellamy watched as Clarke looked around the group before grinning softly. “Sure. It’ll be fun.” 

He was glad she would be able to let loose, but Bellamy found himself worried about what she was getting herself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because singer!Bellamy is life.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's an easter egg to another one of my favorite shows in this chapter. Special love to whoever can spot it. :)

Clarke woke the next morning to a loud crash and raised voices. She rolled out of bed and ran out of her room, forgetting that she had kicked her pants off in the middle of the night and was just in one of Bellamy’s long t-shirts. 

She didn’t really know what she was looking at. 

Bellamy was standing in the living room, held in a headlock by Miller. Harper was off to the side laughing as she filmed the fight on her phone. 

“Lookin’ good there, Blake!” Miller said with a giggle before reaching down with his free hand and tickling Bellamy’s exposed stomach. 

Clarke looked down and realized Bellamy was just wearing boxers and his robe, though the latter had completely opened during the scuffle. Clarke took a step back, ready to disappear back into her room to get dressed, but before she could Harper looked her way. Her eyes scanned Clarke up and down.  

“Oh, nice shirt, Claire,” she said with a knowing glint in her eye. 

Miller looked up when Harper spoke and his grin grew a little wider if that was even possible. “Yeah, isn’t that yours, Bellamy?”

“Shut up, Miller!” Bellamy gasped as he reached up and smacked Miller on the side of the head. “Let go of me.”

“Alright, alright.” Miller finally let go do Bellamy. Once he was free Bellamy took a couple of steps away from his friends and conveniently stood in front of Clarke. 

Clarke found she liked that he acted protective of her. 

“Come on, Claire,” Harper said as she pushed past Bellamy and hooked her arm around Clarke’s. “Let’s get ready for shopping!” 

Clarke looked over her shoulder as she was dragged back to her room, but Bellamy was too busy glaring at Miller to notice her distress. 

“So, how in need are you?” Harper asked as she looked around the guest room, probably hoping to find a bag of some kind. 

Clarke felt self-conscious as she answered, “I don’t have anything.”

Harper’s head turned towards her sharply and her mouth was open to interrogate her, but something in Clarke’s face must have made her change her tune. “Alright, full revamp it is. What were you gonna wear today?”

“Does my outfit from last night work?” Clarke asked. 

Harper grinned. “Totally.”

* * *

Miller would probably consider Bellamy his best friend. With best friend territory came the ability to just know when he was crushing hard on someone, or at least when one was developing. 

And it was obvious Bellamy was a little hot for Claire. 

He got it, at least as much as a gay man could. She had legs for days, especially in that dress, and a decent set of tits. There was also something about her that reminded him of a lost lamb and that would definitely play into Bellamy’s obvious savior kink.

“You ready, Miller?” Harper asked as she picked up her purse from where she’d dropped it earlier. 

“Absolutely,” Miller said. He turned to Bellamy, but his friend was too busy subtly checking out the redhead as she bent down to slip on her boots. “I’d say sorry you’re not coming, Blake, but that would be a lie.”

Bellamy glared at him. “Whatever, Miller.” 

“Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Harper chirped. She grabbed Claire’s hand and began to pull her out of the house. 

“Wait,” Bellamy said and the girls stopped. Miller watched as Bellamy grabbed a jacket off the back of one of the kitchen stools and held it out. It was the bomber jacket she wore last night. Of course, Bellamy would want to drape her in his own clothes. All the better to mark his territory with. 

Claire seemed into it though, if her shy smile was anything to go by. 

Huh. Apparently, Bellamy had a shot. 

Miller led them down to his Subaru and climbed behind the driver’s seat. Harper hopped in the back while Claire got shotgun. 

“So, where are we going?” Claire asked as she buckled herself in. 

“There’s a strip mall just a few minutes outside of town,” Miller said. He checked for other cars before easing into traffic. “Does that work for you?”

Claire shrugged. “I’m not really picky.” 

Harper started chatting about Monty and filled the drive with trivial stories about her boyfriend. 

They pulled in front of the TJ Maxx and climbed out together. Harper took the lead, with Claire following close behind her. Miller couldn’t help but notice that Claire was looking around nervously the entire time. That was weird, but he didn’t dwell on it as they walked into the store. 

Harper got right to it; she started picking up clothes, shoes, and all manner of undergarments and shoved them into a basket. Claire seemed a little taken aback, but didn’t try to stop the blonde. 

Only when the basket was close to overflowing did she hand it to Claire. “This is a good start,” she said, “Go try those on. Miller, go with her. I’ll start looking for more.”

“Is she normally like this?” Claire asked as she watched Harper practically skip away from them. 

“You should see her around Christmas.” Miller grinned and cocked his head to the side. “The best thing to do is just do as she says.”

They make their way to the dressing room area, and Miller pushed Claire into one of the larger rooms. Miller could hear the shuffle of fabric as she started getting changed. He pulled out his phone to occupy his hands while he waited for her to come out in the first outfit. 

“Does Harper know I only really need clothes to work in?” Claire asked from inside the small room.

“Who knows. Why?” Miller replied with a grin. “What did she put you in?”

The door opened, and Miller had to cover his mouth to stifle his laugh. Claire was wearing a skin-tight bodycon dress in a royal blue. It had a deep, swooping neckline and only went to her upper thighs. Claire kept pulling the hem down self consciously, but every time she did it would expose more of her chest. 

“I don’t know when I would wear something like this,” Claire said with a frown. She gave up trying to adjust the dress and instead crossed her arms over her chest. 

“It does look good on you,” Miller complimented. “But you’re right. Probably not the best thing to wear in the kitchen.” 

Claire seemed glad that he agreed with her. She slipped back into the room and began throwing pieces over the door. “I hope Harper won’t mind if I filter through these a little bit.”

At that moment Harper walked in. She took a look at the mess of clothes and furrowed her brows. “What’s all this?”

The door opened a crack and Claire’s head poked out. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, but I don’t think there is a lot of clubbing in my future.” 

“You never know!” Harper argued and Miller rolled his eyes. 

“I’m pretty sure,” Claire said under her breath as she closed the door again. 

“Just get one, then!” Harper said. She pulled out her phone and opened Spotify. “Try on the black one!”

Claire didn’t say anything, but there was a lot of passive-aggressive clanking of hangers. Harper started their [ montage song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iPUmE-tne5U) just as Claire opened the door again. This time she was wearing a black silk dress. It skimmed her body in all the right places, the hem went to just above her knees, and the neckline was tasteful but inviting. Even Miller, who hadn’t thought about a woman in that way since he knew what masturbation was, had to admit she looked like a patented sex symbol. 

“You’re getting it,” Harper said with a finality that brokered no argument. 

Claire looked to Miller, probably hoping he wouldn’t take Harper’s side, but he just shrugged. “Yeah, you need to get it.”

“Ugh. Fine,” Claire said. She went back into the room and began to change again. “But from here on out, I’m only trying on stuff that’s work appropriate.”

Miller watched as Harper looked down at the other basket full of clothes and pouted. “Fine. I’ll narrow it down.” 

The song finally ended, but before it could change Harper started the song over. Miller was having none of that and pulled the phone out of her hand. He stopped the music and closed Spotify to be safe. Harper turned to him with a pout, but he wasn’t swayed. “Nope. That’s the consequence of repeats. You know this.”

“But _montage_ ,” Harper whined. 

Miller just shook his head and shoved her phone in his pocket. 

The cycle continued. Claire would disappear into the little room, then open the door to show them a new outfit. They were mostly jeans and shorts with a variety of different t-shirts and casual button-ups. She tried on a couple of jackets and a few pairs of shoes. Harper dutifully re-hung and set aside the no’s while Miller folded the yes’s. They were nearing the end when Harper threw one final dress over the door. 

“I thought we said ‘work appropriate’?” Claire asked. 

“I know, I know. But I couldn't resist. Please, just one more.” Harper looked excited as she leaned forward in her seat. 

The door opened one last time, this time dressed in a sweet looking sundress. It was orange with a little flower pattern. It fit tight on top but flowed down to her mid-thigh. 

“What do you think?” Harper asked. 

Claire turned around to look at herself in the full-length mirror in the dressing room. She ran her hands down the front and even smiled. She twirled, making the hem flare up around her upper thigh. “I really like it,” she said. 

Harper smiled and clapped her hands. “Awesome! Now get dressed again and we can go to the next shop!” 

Claire almost closed the door before turning sharply. “Did you say next shop?”

* * *

In the end, Clarke went back to Bellamy’s with three pairs of jeans, four shorts, five t-shirts in mostly solid colors, three different patterned button-ups, a jean jacket, a leather jacket, a pair of sneakers, the black slip dress, the sundress, and an assortment of undergarments. All in all, she spent less on her haul than she did on the last cocktail dress she had to get for work. It was a surprisingly refreshing experience. That didn’t make it any less exhausting, though. Harper had wanted to keep going, but Clarke put her foot down after the third store. 

When they dropped her off at Bellamy’s house it was nearing opening time for the bar, meaning she was alone in the house. She took her bags to the guest room and set them in front of the dresser. 

Would it be presumptuous if she put her things away? Bellamy hadn’t said how long she was welcome, and Clarke hadn’t asked. She didn’t really have an end goal when she decided to run from her problems. 

She would have to ask him later. Until then she would just fold them nicely and put them on top of the dresser. 

Once that was done, she changed into a pair of shorts and pulled on a black t-shirt. With nothing better to do, she decided she may as well start her work. She pulled on her sneakers and left the house. 

She made it to the bar and pushed open the door just as Brian turned on the neon ‘OPEN’ sign. He saw her new clothes and gave her a cheesy thumbs up. “They can be a little intense, can’t they?” Brian asked with a knowing grin. 

“Just a bit,” Clarke agreed. 

“Are you looking for Bellamy?” Brian asked. Clarke just nodded. “He’s in the office. You can go on back.” 

Clarke did just that. When she knocked on the oak door, Bellamy called out a calm, “Come in!”

The back office was full of shelves of liquor, a set of lockers, a few broken barstools, and a small desk. It was the kind of space that someone would call organized chaos. That person was not Clarke. She had only stepped past the door, but she already felt like the mess was giving her hives. 

“Oh no, not you too,” Bellamy said, breaking her out of her trance. 

“What?” Clarke asked while the eyed a box that appeared to be dripping dubiously. 

“I like my office, okay?” Bellamy grumbled. “I don’t need to clean it or get any kind of fancy filing system. I can find everything just fine, thank you very much.”

Clarke actually giggled at him. “Is this a sore subject?”

Bellamy finally looked at her and he ducked his head shamefully. “Just a little bit.”

“I won’t say anything then,” Clarke said before adding, “Except are you sure that’s safe?” She pointed at the box and raised an eyebrow. 

Bellamy looked at it and shrugged. “It’s fine.” He grabbed a dirty apron from _somewhere_ and threw it over the box, in some half-hearted attempt to make her feel better. “What are you doing here? I kind of assumed shopping would wear you out and you’d want to just spend the night at the house.” 

Clarke looked down at her pristine sneakers and shuffled her feet somewhat nervously. “I don’t really like being alone right now. So I was hoping I could start work tonight?” 

Bellamy’s face softened. “Of course. I assume you’ll want to work under the table?”

Clarke shook her head. “You don’t need to pay me, Bellamy. You’re letting me live in your home and eat your food. That’s enough for me.”

“I’m paying you, Clarke,” Bellamy said. “That’s not up for discussion, okay?” 

“Fine,” Clarke mumbled. “Half pay only, though. Consider the rest rent.”

The two lapsed into a sort of staring contest, each as stubborn as the other. Eventually, it was Bellamy who caved. “Fine. Let’s go find Murphy.”


	6. Chapter 6

Murphy liked to think of the kitchen as his safe space. In there, he was Gordon Ramsey, and everyone else better just eat what he fucking cooks and like it. So, even if it was his idea, he was a little apprehensive about having someone new invading his space. He was glad they were able to help Clarke out, don’t get him wrong, but could this soap opera star even cook? 

As she was led in by Bellamy, he had to admit that she at least looked like a cook. 

“Good to see you, _Claire_ ,” Murphy greeted with a wink. “You ready for tonight?” 

Clarke tried to look confident as she nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bellamy looked like he wanted to stick around, so Murphy made sure to shoo him away. “Get out of here, Blake. We got this covered.” His ‘boss’ rolled his eyes but eventually left them alone. 

“So…” Clarke said as she looked around the kitchen. “Where do you want me to start?” 

Murphy grabbed a knife from his knife roll and spun it in his hand before offering it to her, handle first. “Think you can handle some chopping?” Clarke nodded as she took it. “Good. You can use the prep table over there.” He pointed to a metal table kitty-corner from his stove. 

Clarke walked to it and set his knife down carefully. Murphy left her there while he grabbed a clean apron, a couple of towels, and a cutting board. He set them down on the table in front of her. “Get one of those rags wet and put your cutting board on top of it. That should stop it from slipping around. Let me get you some veggies.” 

He pulled a Cambro of onions, carrots, and celery and put it down next to her cutting board. He was happy to see that she had followed his instructions. “You know how to make a mirepoix?”

“I’ve heard about it, but no,” Clarke admitted. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s one of the building blocks of French cooking,” Murphy turned his head to make sure she was paying attention. She was. “Basically it’s two parts onions and one part of carrots and celery.”

“I think I can handle that,” Clarke said. She grabbed an onion and put it down on her board. 

“Don’t forget your _accoutrements,_ ” Murphy said in an annoying French accent before picking up the apron and looping it over her head. “I’ll check back in a bit.” 

Murphy was never one to hover, so he left her at the prep table and went back to his own work. Soon the smell of freshly chopped onion filled the kitchen, and Murphy breathed it in happily.

* * *

Clarke really liked working in the kitchen. 

For as often as she had witnessed Murphy fight with Bellamy over the music, he actually had a little Bluetooth speaker that he used to play whatever he wanted. Tonight it was [ Pete Drake & His Talking Steel Guitar](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O51bBOseZwM). Something Clarke had never heard of but found she really liked. The soft music droned out the chatter from the bar and allowed her to focus on her work. 

She never realized how much she could enjoy the repetition of just chopping vegetables. Murphy stopped by to check her work every once and a while but he would just adjust her wrist or give her a tip to avoid cutting her fingers before going back to his own task. 

When she was done with her first load of vegetables, he moved her over to the stove and talked her through making a simple tomato soup. 

“Everyone loves tomato soup and grilled cheese,” he had said. 

By the time the dinner rush started, Clarke was sweating beneath her thin top and wondering how Murphy did this day in and day out. He was handling most of the tickets, while Clarke mostly plated the food and rang the bell when the orders were completed. 

Eventually, the rush died down and Murphy pushed her out of the kitchen with a firm order to, “Take a damn break.” 

Clarke wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth and took a seat at the end of the bar. She took a second to rest her head on the cool bar top. There was a _clunk_ -ing sound and Clarke looked up to see Bellamy had set down a cool bottle of Coke. 

“So? You regretting saying yes yet?” He asked playfully. 

Clarke waved a finger around her face. “Don’t let the fatigue fool you,” she said with a tired grin. “I actually really like it.”

“I’m glad,” Bellamy told her. “Don’t tell Murphy I told you this, but he’s actually a really good teacher and likes taking people under his wing.”

Clarke chuckled. “You know what? I totally believe you.” She took a sip of her drink and looked around the bar. It was starting to slow down considerably. “Quiet night?”

Bellamy shrugged and picked up a lowball glass to polish, in a classic bartender move. “Monday’s normally are. We’ll probably close up soon.” 

“Well, then I should probably get back to Murphy.” Clarke took another drink of her soda. Bellamy took the half-full glass from her and she smiled in thanks. 

Back in the kitchen, Murphy was starting to clean up. Clarke went right back to the dishwasher and started to load it. Murphy seemed pleased. 

They spent the next hour washing dishes, wiping down tables, and setting the kitchen up for the next night. Once they were finished Murphy clapped Clarke on the back. “You did good tonight, Claire,” he said with a genuine smile. 

“Thanks, Murphy,” Clarke replied. She pulled off her apron and handed it to Murphy, who threw it in the laundry bag with his own. 

Bellamy stuck his head in the kitchen and asked, “You guys ready to head out?”

“Sure are, Boss.” Murphy gave Bellamy a snarky salute and pulled his motorcycle helmet from under one of the tables. 

The group separated outside the bar: Brian to his sedan and Murphy to his bike. Clarke hung around while Bellamy locked up. 

Bellamy took one look at her once they were ready to walk home and shrugged out of his jacket. Before Clarke could protest he placed it over her shoulders. “You’re gonna freeze out here,” he said, sounding just like an exasperated older brother. 

“It’s only a few blocks,” Clarke grumbled. She tried to give it back to him but was unsuccessful. 

Bellamy just kept walking. “Don’t care.”

Even though it really was only a few blocks, Clarke found she was dead on her feet by the time Bellamy opened the front door. Clarke mumbled a goodnight and zombie-walked to her room. She closed the door and was asleep within minutes, snuggled down in Bellamy’s jacket.

* * *

Bellamy liked Tuesdays. 

For a while, when he first opened Walden Station, he was working seven days a week. He knew that was common for a new business owner, but it really sucked. It wasn’t until at least a year later that Bellamy trusted Miller enough to leave him alone. Thus, Tuesdays became his day off. 

He had developed a routine. 

Since he didn’t have to wake up early to run or get ready for work, he didn’t bother to set an alarm. He still woke up early (his body was too conditioned not to) but it felt nice to be able to wake up naturally.  He relaxed in bed for a bit, normally popping off a nice orgasm, before getting up and making himself a pot of the good coffee. 

He took his mug to his favorite armchair and watched some tv. 

His routine was so ingrained that he didn’t even think about it. 

“Well, this is awkward.”

Bellamy whipped around in his seat, spilling coffee all over himself in the process, and spotted Clarke standing just a few feet away. Then he heard her voice come from the tv, and he couldn’t grab the remote fast enough. 

How could he forget that _Diagnosis Desire_ was just as big a part of his Tuesdays as the good coffee was? 

“Shit, fuck, sorry,” Bellamy swore. He tried to turn the tv off but somehow ended up turning the volume up. 

On the screen, Dr. Hume was walking down a long hallway talking about a recent patient with Dr. Sasha Lahiri. This was the episode when the two doctors went on their first date. It was one of his favorites. 

He was so embarrassing. It was one thing for Clarke to know he was a fan. It was a whole other thing for her to witness him watching old episodes that he DVR’d at least a month ago. 

Finally, he managed to turn off the tv and threw the remote on the coffee table. 

Bellamy looked down at his lap for another beat before risking a glance at Clarke. 

Thankfully, she seemed more amused than upset. 

“That was a fun episode to shoot,” she eventually said. 

Bellamy tried to not look as interested as he was. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Clarke said. “Wells is one of my best friends. We had a break for lunch right before the first kiss scene, and he made sure to eat all the green olives from craft services. Cause he knew how much I hated them.”

“Sasha did that? He seemed like such a nice guy!” Bellamy laughed. 

“Oh, he is,” Clarke said. “I have a tendency to get too in my head sometimes. And Wells was the only one who could really get me out of it.” 

“I’m glad,” Bellamy said. “There’s coffee in the pot if you’d like some.”

“Thanks,” Clarke replied softly. 

Bellamy returned his attention to his own cup and listened to the soft footfalls as Clarke walked back to the kitchen. He could hear her prepare her drink and then she appeared beside him and sat in her own chair. 

She motioned to the tv with her mug and said, “You can turn it back on. I don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t that be weird for you?” Bellamy asked. 

Clarke shrugged. “I can read. It’s okay, really.”

“Oooo-kay,” Bellamy said slowly. He reached for the remote and turned the tv back on. 

They were at the scene where Dr. Hume and Dr. Lahiri were running from their date back to the hospital because there was a bridge collapse and all the doctors were needed. 

Bellamy let himself get back into watching. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Clarke pick up _Watership Down_. 

They lapsed into a companionable silence, with the only sound coming from the characters in the show. Every once in awhile Clarke would pipe up with insider information about the episode, and Bellamy soaked it up like a sponge. After all, _Diagnosis Desire_ was his favorite show. 

Clarke only started to shift uncomfortably a couple of episodes later, when her character and Dr. Lahiri started to fool around in the on-call room. Bellamy imagined that it would be weird for her to watch, especially with him around. He turned the tv off again and stood from his chair. “Omelets or pancakes?”

Clarke looked relieved as she answered, “Pancakes.” 

Murphy may be the chef, but Bellamy knew his way around breakfast food. He started another pot of coffee and got started mixing up the batter. Clarke moved from the living room and took a seat at the kitchen bar. 

They chatted insignificantly while Bellamy cooked. He put a short stack on a plate for her first and smiled when she took her first bite. “Good?” He asked. Clarke just nodded with chipmunk cheeks. 

He made himself a few and took a seat next to her. 

Conversation flowed seamlessly from one subject to the next. Bellamy didn’t know how easy it would be to talk to her. For so long _Clarke Griffin_ had only existed in his mind as a star on his favorite show. She rarely gave interviews, so what she was like outside of _Diagnosis Desire_ was a total mystery. 

Now he knew that she was reserved and quiet, but at the same time easy going and approachable. Last night she had worked harder than some of their old employees. Bellamy was pretty sure he saw her washing dishes with an actual smile on her face. 

Bellamy realized that at some point in the last couple days she stopped being _Clarke Griffin_ in his mind and was instead just Clarke. 

“Bellamy?” 

His head shot up and he saw that he had managed to eat his entire breakfast while stuck in his own head. “Yeah?” 

“Your computer is ringing,” Clarke said with a shy smile. 

Bellamy finally heard the faint jingle and swore. He jumped up and ran to where his computer was plugged in upstairs in his room. 

There was one other thing that always happened on Tuesday. 

FaceTime with Octavia. 

He made it to his computer just in time to accept the video call. The screen buffered for a moment before his sister’s smiling face appeared. 

“ _Hey, big brother,_ ” Octavia said. “ _I thought for a second you were going to stand me up._ ” 

He was about to reply when he heard the distinct sound of pans and plates moving around in the sink and he was not about to let his guest do dishes. “Never. But hold on a sec, okay?”

Octavia grumbled about getting motion sick but Bellamy ignored her as he ran downstairs. Just like he thought, Clarke was at the sink with a sponge in hand. He set his computer down on the counter, so he could still see the screen, and gently hip-check Clarke away from the sink. “You’re a guest. That means no chores.”

“I can help,” Clarke said with a little pout. 

“I know you _can_ ,” Bellamy said. “But I don’t want you to. Okay? Go and relax.”

“ _Well, well, well._ ” 

Bellamy and Clarke both turned their heads to see Octavia smiling at them. To anyone else, it would seem happy, but Bellamy could see the dangerous interest behind it. That look never boded well for him. 

“Oh, hi,” Clarke said. She shifted from foot to foot nervously. 

“This is my sister, Octavia,” Bellamy introduced, giving his sister a subtle look to _be cool_. “O, this is Claire. She’s going to be staying with me for a bit.”

“ _My brother treating you right?_ ” Octavia asked immediately. 

Bellamy cringed. “It’s not like that, O, Jesus Christ.”

Octavia just laughed. “ _Oh, I know. Your game’s not that strong._ ” She focused her attention on Clarke and added. “ _I_ _t’s nice to meet you, Claire._ ”

“Nice to meet you too.” Clarke stood and picked up her half-empty mug of coffee. “I’ll leave you two to talk. I’m going to go read in my room.” She smiled and waved at the screen before grabbing her book from where she left it and heading in the direction of her room. 

The Blake siblings were quiet until they heard the click of the guest room door. 

“ _So you obviously left out the part about the redhead being Clarke_ Fucking _Griffin when you called me to bitch the other night,_ ” Octavia said with a smirk. She laughed when Bellamy shot her a surprised look. “ _What? I lived with you for years. How could I not pick up on your obsession with that stupid show?_ ” 

“It’s not stupid,” Bellamy grumbled petulantly. “And I did mention that she was on the run, right? I wasn’t about to blab about her identity.”

" _And that is why you are the best person to protect her,_ ” Octavia reminded him. “ _So, what’s it like having your WCW staying in your house?_ ”

Bellamy groaned. 

Little sisters were the worst. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think!


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